Love is a Four Letter Word
by Hollywithaneye
Summary: Bulma/Vegeta...maybe the Prince is a little more in character here. And maybe Bulma isn't falling all over herself to hook up with him. What happens when pride clashes with pride?
1. Clash of the Titans

_Authors Notes: This is my first ever DBZ fanfic, and only the third one I have ever written. I am not an expert on DBZ, so I realize that I will probably make many huge errors in the storyline and my characters will not always be IN character (maybe never!). I will try as hard as I can, but hey, this is my fic and I'm just trying to have fun here. So please no spiteful flames! But please please R&R and if I do make any major gaffs let me know and I will fix them. _

Well well, here we go with another Bulma/Vegeta get together! But hey, I am a shameless addict and if you are reading this chances are you're one too. I just can't get enough of those two. So here is my spin on the big event, I hope you all enjoy it! 

_Oh yeah, round up the disclaimers...I don't own anything! Not a damn thing, so don't sue. But I'll take Vegeta if you want to give him to me. Pretty please??_

**Chapter One**

Bulma winced as she tried to swallow past the hand tightening around her throat, the blood pounding in her ears so loudly that she could barely make out what the furious Prince of all Saiyans was hissing a few inches in front of her face. She could feel her toes leave the ground as the powerful Saiya-jin lifted her higher, the slight tightening of his grip the only sign that lifting her 115 lbs warranted any more effort than swatting a fly. Gradually his cold voice cut through her oxygen-deprived haze, reminding her haughtily of her place and his station. 

"…will be upgraded. You will not defy me again, what I tell you to do you _will_ do or those closest to you will suffer. Too many times have I had to listen to your backtalk when I demand the respect I deserve!" Vegeta's hand relaxed its iron grip enough for Bulma to slide bonelessly to the ground, gasping and choking as she tried to pull air in through her bruised windpipe. 

" You _will_ build me a better training room woman," the Prince said as he knelt down by her ear, black eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "And if you do not, I will destroy you and force your father to do it. Or, perhaps I will just kill your family and force _you_ to do it. Either way, do not attempt cross me again woman. This pitiful mudball and the worms who inhabit it mean less than nothing to me, and I suggest you remember that next time before you think about opening your loud mouth." At that, Vegeta rose to his feet and stalked off, his body vibrating with barely contained violence. 

Bulma propped herself up on shaky arms and watched the Saiyan no Ouija's departing back, quivering with fury herself. Never, NEVER had she felt so helpless in her entire life. She hated that arrogant bastard! She could not remember any reason why in Kami's name she had ever invited that prick to live in her house. Since then he had done nothing but tyrannize her family, threatening them daily until they all were jumping at the slightest shadows. Bulma knew that Vegeta found perverse pleasure in being feared, any stoke to his pride and ego that he could find. Still, for the most part all he had ever done was threaten. Bulma thought that she had maybe just gone too far this time today, because the prince had never actually raised a hand to any member of her family. She had always felt brave while fighting with Vegeta because she truly believed that somewhere buried underneath those layers of ice and bricks Vegeta did actually have something that could almost pass for a heart. But today, during their usual argument about her building him training toys, she had made the mistake of throwing in a particularly cutting remark about his dead legacy and had abruptly found herself dangling inches in the air from the end of the Saiyan's arm. 

Sighing, Bulma picked herself up off the ground gingerly, muttering choice phrases about the Prince of all Sayains and where exactly he could stuff his pride. She made her way into the kitchen to get some water and ran into her mother baking some kind of silly sugary _things_ again. 

"Hi Bulma!" her mother chirped happily. 

"Hi mom," Bulma replied, heading over to the sink and getting a glass of water. 

"Now, do you think that Vegeta likes cookies?" her mother chattered on. "I hope he does, I just made too many of these things and I have no idea what to do with them all!" she giggled. 

Rolling her eyes behind her mothers back, Bulma shook her head. "Mom, that arrogant bastard doesn't deserve anything from us, let alone you baking him cookies! Look at what he just did to my neck!" Bulma pointed to the bright purple necklace of bruises she was now sporting. 

"Oh, dear, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He really is a nice young man!" 

Bulma snorted in disgust. "Yeah, mom, nice like a hemorrhoid is nice!" After draining her glass of water and stealing a few cookies, Bulma went into her lab to begin working on a new, improved gravity machine for Vegeta. A vague feeling of uneasiness passed over her as she replayed that morning's scene in her mind. _Would he really hurt my family or me?_ she wondered. She had always thought that Vegeta had changed, at least a little. She had never really thought that he might revert back to his old ways. Gritting her teeth at her helplessness, she regretted inviting that Sayain into her home for the millionth time. Still, she had to admit that her remarks had gone over the line today. 

She could have sworn that she almost, _almost_ felt sorry for the Prince this morning. For a brief half second after the harsh words had flown from her mouth and before she was lifted into the air by her throat she thought that she had seen something flash in the depths of those black eyes. Something besides that intolerable always-present pride. If she didn't know better, she might have almost thought that it was … regret, or pain? _ Damnit, Bulma! You always have to think too much, don't you??_ she yelled at herself as she started to feel a tiny bit guilty over the whole incident. _Fine, fine!_ she groaned as she lay her head down on her arms on top of the desk. She would make some kind of an effort at an apology the next time she saw Vegeta. Pissed off at her conscience and grumbling the whole time, Bulma set to work on the new gravity machine before she had an opportunity to test out whether Vegeta had really meant his threats this time. 

_Ok all, how do you like it so far? I know, there's a million B/V out there but should I continue? Let me know, ok? ~Threnody~ _


	2. In Darkened Corners

**Chapter Two**

Hours later, a thoroughly exhausted Bulma began to drag herself out of her lab. She had gotten so wrapped up in her work that she hadn't even noticed when the hands of the clock slid past 1 AM. As tired as she was, she still was beaming with pride; the plans for the new gravity machine were well over half finished, and she would be able to begin construction sometime in the next few days. Humming happily to herself, she went into the kitchen to fix herself a quick snack before going to bed. Moving carefully through the darkened room, she decided against turning on any lights and awakening any of her family members. Still humming softly, she opened the refrigerator door and stood inside the mellow-lit rectangle, trying to decide between making herself a sandwich and heating up some left-over pizza. 

" I _thought it_ sounded like a cat was being murdered," a harsh voice said from out of the darkness. Giving a tiny yip of surprise, Bulma spun around to find a pair of glittering black eyes in the far corner of the shadowed kitchen. Squinting as her eyes slowly adjusted from the brightness of the fridge to the dark of the room, she saw that Vegeta was sitting in a pool of inky black by the kitchen table, watching her with an expression that was an interesting combination of amusement/irritation and blending in nicely with the shadows. 

"As if you would have any idea what art or refinement is, monkey-man." She said stiffly, his presence in the kitchen making her uncomfortable as her conscience picked up its incessant hammering. She had said she would apologize, but honestly! Did she really have to? Cringing at the thought of what she was about to do, Bulma pulled out some sandwich fixings and piled them at the table next to the Saiyan, her eyes growing large as she got a look at the size of the sandwich he already was munching at. Once she had finished and put everything away she sighed and drew up a chair at the table, absently taking a bite of her food as she contemplated the best and least painful way of getting this over with. Vegeta just eyed her warily and continued to wolf down his third sandwich. Bulma picked at her crust and shook her head in disbelief, barely able to admit that she was about to abase herself before this arrogant prick. Gritting her teeth, Bulma screwed up her courage. 

"Vegeta…" she began and then paused, fighting back the feeling of nausea she was experiencing. Damn, this was hard! Vegeta just continued to watch her expectantly, one black eyebrow arched questioningly. Talking a deep breath, Bulma steeled herself and continued on. "Look, Vegeta…I'm…I'm sorry about what I said earlier today. You know, about you being too weak to defend your planet and that whole Prince of a dead race thing…and, well, yeah. I'm just sorry. That was crossing a line and I feel bad about it." Bulma finished in a defeated voice and hurriedly took a bite of her sandwich, the bread feeling like sawdust in her suddenly dry mouth. Swallowing her half-chewed bite, Bulma looked up a few moments later and almost choked when she found Vegeta's black eyes boring intensely into hers, an unreadable expression flickering in their inky depths. Bulma just sat and stared for a few moments, feeling too much like a deer caught in headlights for her own comfort. Finally, the Saiyans lips curled into his characteristic smirk and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and breaking whatever weird thing had just been happening. 

"Well, it is about time you stupid woman!" he began in a self-satisfied tone. "I have lived here for almost a year and you are just _finally_ learning the proper ways to show me respect. Of course, for you to have done it right you needed to have been on your hands and knees, licking the toes of my boots clean while begging for my forgiveness but I will let this slide. You will have plenty of time to learn the proper way to abase yourself before a prince, and you already have such a good start-" Vegeta was interrupted by Bulma's bellow of outrage and he winced, his sensitive ears being assaulted as all hell broke loose in the Brief's kitchen. 

"Proper ways to show you respect??!!" Bulma yelled, her voice steadily rising into the screech range. "I'll show you proper respect, you absolute pig of a man!" Frantically Bulma began looking around the kitchen for anything that wasn't nailed down. Throwing an impressive assortment of knives, utensils, dishes, pots, pans, and any other item she could pick up, Vegeta dodged her missiles easily while amused laughter began to bubble out of him. Bulma's eyes flashed blue lightening while a hideous string of insults poured out of her mouth almost as quickly as the various projectiles she was launching. 

"You…you absolute pig! You reject from a biotech experimentation wing! You are nothing but a refugee from the local zoo, you damn monkey! No, worse than that because at least a simple monkey can be easily trained! Your mother was a lemur and your father an orangutan! A hideous one, at that!" At this point, Vegeta was almost roaring with uncharacteristic laughter, the Chikyuu woman's temper and pitiful attempts at injuring him only serving to amuse him more, which in turn only caused Bulma to get more pissed off. 

Just as she was trying to figure out the best way to get the kitchen sink free from the counter the bright overhead lights came on. Blinking, Bulma turned to find her bewildered father standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he took in the scene of carnage. His kitchen had become a battlefield and the poor objects in it sacrificed to appease the temper of their queen. Bulma was standing in front of the kitchen sink with her chest heaving, panting with exertion and anger while Vegeta simply stood in the center of a vast pile of objects, arms crossed and chuckling. 

"What is going on here Bulma?" her father asked, his voice still thick with sleep. 

"Vegeta said - and then I…AAARGH!" Bulma just ended in a frustrated scream, giving up on any attempt at explaining things and stomping past her father up the stairs, throwing doors open and closed causing pictures to fall off the walls as she made her way to her own bedroom. Mr. Briefs looked at Vegeta questioningly who just shrugged and began making his own way outside. 

"Don't look at me…she's your idiotic daughter!" He threw over his shoulder, still chuckling. Mr. Briefs just sighed and shook his head, deciding to send in some bots to clean up the mess in the kitchen. 

"Kids…" was all he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he walked back up the stairs to his bed. 

_Well, whatcha think so far? To be continued..I'm not sure how long exactly this will be but at the rate I am going I would say at least 15 chapters or so. See you soon! ~Threnody~ _


	3. I thought I Saw...Nope, No, Never Mind.

_Allright guys, here we go with Chapter Three. I am really trying to keep everyone IC, and I appreciate everyone reviewing me! Thanks for letting me know I'm doing a good job. So, lets round up those disclaimers and climb back into the ring for another round of Bulma vs. Vegeta!!_

**Chapter Three**

Bulma got up off her hands and knees and placed her wrench on the workbench, stretching out the cricks in her back and neck as she looked over the new gravity machine that she had just been putting the final touches on. Her face split in a huge grin as she took in all the additional features she had added to this new chamber; Bulma knew that her genius was unparalleled. Not only could this new gravity machine increase the gravity 5 times better than the old one, she had added in a compartment for a sleeping cot, a food storage area, and tiny bathroom. This way, she figured Vegeta could live in his damn machine, and she would only have to see his ugly mug once every few weeks. (Thank Kami!!) 

Bulma smiled again, looking for all the world like the cat that swallowed the canary as she went outside to find the Saiyan no Ouji whom she hadn't seen since a week ago, after her temper tantrum. As her mind replayed that whole incident, Bulma could feel her face begin to burn with shame. She could not believe that she had let that bastard get to her so easily! And after she had gone so far as to try and apologize to him! Every time they argued she fell right for his bait, doing nothing but embarrass herself and amuse that prick more. _Well, not this time!_ she thought resolutely, steeling herself for the upcoming meeting. _I won't let him get me that easily! I'm through with falling into his traps._ Standing outside the door of the new gravity chamber, Bulma scanned the area for any sign of that overgrown chimpanzee. 

"VEGETA!!" she finally bellowed, unable to locate his-royal-pain-in-the-ass., and was rewarded a few moments later by a gruff reply from the trees to her right. 

"What are you screeching about, woman?" The resident royalty grunted as he emerged from the woods, his armor scratched and dirty from his sparring with Goku. "And in the future do not think that you can just scream and I will come running like some pathetic Chikyuu male. I am the Pr-" 

"Yeah yeah, we know. Prince of all Saiyans," Bulma cut in, mimicking Vegeta's crossed-arm stance and his scowl. "Whatever, your Royal Highn-ass." She rolled her eyes. 

Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he uncrossed his arms, striding closer to the tiny Chikyuu woman and standing almost toe to toe with her, a low rumbling that sounded suspiciously like a growl bubbling out of his throat and the heat of his body searing her even through her clothes. "Listen to me, woman. Remember out last little 'conversation' about respect?" 

Gulping, Bulma fought the urge to step back and cower. Her anger flared up at the helpless position he always managed to put her in, giving her the strength to stand up to the Saiyan bully. Pulling herself up to her full height (which she noticed with a satisfied smile was exactly one inch taller than Vegeta if you didn't count his hair) Bulma glared down at the angry Saiyan, her own blue eyes sparking at his black. "Look here, Vegeta-" she began furiously, before she suddenly realized that she was allowing him to do exactly what she had always done. Determined not to let him get to her, Bulma stopped and took a deep breath, then stepped back away from Tarzan-boy and smiled sweetly. Vegeta's scowl flickered for a moment as his surprise almost got the better of him, but he quickly resumed his usual expression of standoffish arrogance and waited expectantly for the woman to tell him what was going on. 

"I finished your gravity machine, Vegeta. Its over here in the lab," Bulma said, quickly walking over to the open lab doors and leading the Saiyan inside. The titanium shine of the large gravity machine gave it a glowing effect that lit up the interior of the lab, and Vegeta's smirk grew wider as he took in its improved capabilities. Bulma began to lead him around the new machine to get him accustomed to the new controls and features, pointing out the sleeping area,the small bathroom, and the food storage area. 

"What are those for?" Vegeta asked, his scowl deepening. Bulma spared a moment to contemplate the fact that she hadn't thought it _possible_ for Vegeta's scowl to get any deeper before launching into her explanation. 

"They are for you, so you can just live in the gravity machine, you pain in the ass! This way I can kick you out of my house without feeling guilty for breaking my offer to let you stay. Now you only have to come into the main house every few weeks for some more food, or I will just have a grocery delivery boy drop them off. Nice, prepared dishes so that you don't have to worry about cooking. Just open it up and eat. I'm sure that will make you happy, and I KNOW it will make _me_ a hell of a lot happier." Bulma huffed, and was about to turn towards the workbench so she could find the keys to give them to Vegeta when she saw the Saiyan's dark head swivel in her direction out of the corner of her eye. Glancing back, she saw Vegeta's obsidian hard eyes focused on her again, the same unreadable expression from a week ago roiling in their dark depths. _I MUST be going crazy…_ she thought, because once again she could have almost sworn that it was a flash of hurt she saw. But before she was able to identify the expression for sure the Saiyan prince just grunted and turned his head back towards the gravity machine. He glared at the titanium side hard enough to melt holes in it and the only outward sign that anything was wrong was his brief clenching of jaw muscles. 

Frowning, Bulma turned back towards the workbench to find those keys again, trying to ignore the pricking of her conscience. _How many times has he hurt me??_ she asked it, trying to justify the situation to herself. She hadn't realized that Vegeta might have a problem with living in the gravity machine, for whatever warped reasons. Sighing, Bulma turned with the keys in her hand and began to open her mouth to ask if he was ok with the situation when the Sayian grunted again. 

"That sounds like a great idea woman, probably the first and only that you will ever have." Vegeta just smirked as Bulma sighed again, shaking her head in disbelief that she would actually be insane enough to halfway feel sorry for this bastard. 

"Of course," Vegeta continued, "The actual machine itself is a piece of crap. I will probably destroy it in under half an hour, but what can I expect from a backward mudball like this and the barbarians that inhabit it? I guess it will have to do, woman." And with that Vegeta snatched the keys from Bulmas hand and disappeared inside the new machine, leaving an extremely pissed Bulma outside to stomp off and get ready for her date with Yamcha, muttering obsenities about monkeys and where they could stuff things the entire way. 

_There we go...to be continued, watch for a new chapter late tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for the reviews! ~Threnody~ _


	4. For Want Of...

_Howdy kids, its me again. We're back but this time it's Bulma vs. Yamcha. And the theme song for todays episode is Des'ree 'Kissing You: Love theme from Romeo&Juliet" so in case you can't tell its a sad one today. Allright, enough said! Lets round up those disclaimers and get the show on the road!_

**Chapter Four**

Bulma sat on her couch in her new red dress, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out from over her knee. The hands of the clock inched past 7, and she knew that Yamcha should be here any minute. She hoped that he would take her somewhere nice, maybe to her favorite restaurant Genoa, because she _knew_ she was definitely looking good tonight. She hoped Yamcha would be looking as nice…maybe wearing that certain green shirt she had bought for him a few weeks ago. _Yummy…_ Bulma lost herself in a nice daydream involving her, Yamcha, that green shirt, and a grand piano in a very empty house. 

The sudden ringing of the doorbell wiped the silly grin off of Bulma's face and she tried to contain her excitement at Yamcha's arrival. They had been together for years and still she got flutters in her stomach when she thought of him. She just wished he was a little more willing to make a serious commitment to her, but Bulma knew that she would wait until he was ready. 

"Hey babe!" Yamcha flashed her a thousand-watt grin as he entered the room and she felt her knees go soft, even though she was still sitting on the couch. Jumping up, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a huge kiss, smearing red lipstick all over his face in the process. 

"Whoa!" Yamcha laughed, and detached himself from Bulma's tentacle grasp, wiping the crimson streaks off his cheeks. "Somebody is excited to see me, huh?" 

"I just missed you, that's all." Bulma smiled, feeling a bit shy suddenly. "I _am_ entitled to miss the man I love, aren't I?" she joked, but paused when she saw a quick hint of some expression cross Yamcha's face. _Man, this flash of emotion thing is happening to me a lot lately!_ Bulma thought wryly to herself as Yamcha plopped down on the couch and pulled Bulma beside him. 

Bulma stared at Yamcha in confusion for a few moments, while he appeared to be fighting some kind of battle within himself. His forehead creased in a deep frown and his brown eyes were brimming with emotion when he finally looked up at Bulma. Taking her hands in each of his, Yamcha turned towards her and stared intently at her face. 

"Bulma, I have to ask you a question." He finally began, and she could barely contain her squeal of delight. _He's going to ask me to marry him!_ "Have you noticed anything different about me the last few weeks? I mean, have I been acting any different towards you?" Bulma felt her smile fade as confusion clouded her features. This wasn't exactly been the question she had been expecting… 

"What do you mean, Yamcha?" she asked slowly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she pulled her hands out of his grip. 

" I just mean, have I been acting any different? Because it seems to me that I have." He continued. 

"I haven't really noticed anything, Yamcha. Maybe a little more distant that normal, but nothing out of the ordinary. Why?" Bulma frowned herself, puzzled. 

"Well…" Yamcha began and then paused, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. "Bulma…I think that we should break up." He finished and then cringed, expecting all hell to break loose. After a minute of silence, Yamcha found the courage to open his tightly shut eyes and look around the room in puzzlement. Bulma should have been well on her way to a full-fledged temper tantrum by now, but she was still just sitting silently on the couch right next to him, her beautiful blue eyes full of confusion. 

"Why?" she managed to whisper past the lump squeezing her throat closed. 

"Oh, babe…" Yamcha reached toward her to give her a hug, but was shocked to see her pull back quickly. 

"Don't touch me, Yamcha. Just tell me why." She said again, her wavering voice growing stronger but still deadly calm. 

"Babe, I just…" Yamcha sighed and rose to his feet, pacing in front of the couch while his hand absently ran through his hair. "Its just…I've been having crushes, Bulma. On other people. And that has never happened before; I don't know what to make of it! And I don't think it is fair to you to keep dragging you along like this. I guess…I just wish we could take a break from each other, give me some time to sort all of this out. …Damn…this is a lot harder than ever I thought." Yamcha broke off and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. "Bulma, I don't see any other option here. I don't want to take the chance of cheating on you someday, and you deserve someone who is in love with you 100% and will treat you like it. But still…" Yamcha growled and clenched his fists. "This is so damn hard. I feel like I am losing more than just my girlfriend, or my best friend. You are my innocence, Bulma. And I hate feeling jaded like this!" 

Bulma swallowed down the tears that were threatening to overtake her. She would be damned if she was going to let Yamcha see her cry this time! Standing up from the couch, she walked over to the bay window and stood for a few moments, watching the last glimmers of light fade as the sun slipped below the horizon. 

"You do know that I will not wait for you." She finally managed, her back still to Yamcha and the room as her arms wrapped around to hug herself tightly. She was afraid that if she let go, her whole body would fall apart and she would just cry pieces of herself all over. "If you let me go now there is a chance that you might not get me back, ever." 

"Don't you think I know that Bulma!" Yamcha surprised her with the volume of his voice as he almost yelled the words. "Don't you think I have agonized over this? Hell, I have no idea, for all I know I may be making the biggest mistake of my entire goddamn life right now! But still, the bitch of it all is that I still have to do it! And this is tearing me up, just as much as you Bulma." He was by her side instantly, grasping her shoulders to turn her towards him as he shook her slightly, a wild look in his eyes. "If I could force myself to feel different Bulma, I would! If I could make myself love you the way I did before I would! But I can't…and this" he gestured to the two of them "is killing me." His voice hitched in a sob on the last words and he turned away to bury his face in his hands. 

"I'm sorry Bulma…I'm so sorry" he whispered, his voice muffled by his hands. 

"I just think that you should leave, Yamcha. Hashing over this won't get us anywhere. I am afraid that if you stay much longer I will start to cry, and once I start I don't think I will ever stop." Bulma said, fighting back the urge to wrap her arms around Yamcha…just one last hug, just one last kiss… 

"Bulma…" he whispered and raised a tear streaked face from his hands, the heartbreak etched on it stabbing her like a knife. 

"Please…" she whispered, "Just, please leave Yamcha." 

Nodding tearfully, Yamcha walked over to her and turned her face towards his, cupping her chin in his hand and brushing the faintest of kisses on her lips before he quickly strode out the door. Bulma was left behind to stare out the window quietly, listening to the echoes of a shutting door reverberate throughout her silent, empty house and heart. 

_Just to let you know, even if this sounds really cheesy it happens to some people! Exactly like that! In fact, it happened last Thursday! *sniffle* But, um... I'll go nurse my own broken heart right now, thanks for reading and reviewing! ~Threnody~_


	5. Springtime in the Arctic

_Ok everyone, here is where things start to get difficult. How do you write a romance and keep Vegeta IC? I don't think it worked too well, but hey, its just fun and games right? The theme song for today is Coldplay 'Shivers'. Anyways, lets round those disclaimers up once again and have some fun!_

**Chapter 5**

Hours after he had entered the new and improved gravity chamber, Vegeta finally hit the button that woman had told him would return gravity to normal. As the machine came to a whirring halt Vegeta leaned against the wall for a moment, resting enough to catch his breath since there was no one around to see. He didn't really want to admit it, but that woman had outdone herself this time. With this new machine he would be a Super Saiyan in no time at all. Grinning wickedly as he imagined the beating Kakarott would get then, Vegeta headed towards the tiny bathroom and the shower inside. 

As he was soaping up under the scalding water, Vegeta mulled over the afternoon's events and the new gravity chamber. _Yes, the woman definitely outdid herself._ he thought, looking around his tiny bathroom. At least he wouldn't have to put up with her loud mouth anymore, or her mothers hideous giggling. Vegeta scowled as that same unfamiliar twinge tugged at his brain, much like one had that afternoon. He couldn't possibly be…disappointed, could he? Vegeta's mind shrank in horror away from that line of thinking and he shrugged the whole incident off as the result of a lack of training. Yes, that had to be it. A week of no gravity machine to train in and he had already gone soft. Snorting, Vegeta finished in the shower and dried off, putting his clothes back on as his stomach began its own four-part harmony. 

"All right, I hear you." he said, stepping out of the bathroom to search the food area for some dinner. As he opened the doors he realized something that woman had forgot. 

"Idiotic blue-haired bimbo!" he cursed, and took off out the door of the gravity machine toward the house. It didn't do any good to give him this fancy-shmancy gravity machine if she forgot to put food in it altogether!! Scowling even harder as his stomach rumbled louder, Vegeta stormed up to the door of the house and made his way back towards the kitchen. Dimly he could hear the woman and her mate talking in the other room. _Good, I hope they fight!_ he thought with an evil grin. _At least it makes for an entertaining night!_ Making himself another sandwich, Vegeta sat down at the table to eavesdrop on the latest episode of the Brief's household soap opera. Curiously, the only one who seemed to yell at all this time was that idiot Yamcha. And even more surprising, the woman didn't seem to be saying much of anything, let alone throwing her usual assortment of vases and pillows. 

Suddenly the other room got very quiet, and Vegeta rolled his eyes, hoping that they hadn't moved on to the 'making up' part of the fight. He always hated having to hear that, all those grunts and groans and moans and _ugh._ So this time it was the prince who almost choked on a bite of his sandwich in surprise as a solitary Yamcha swept by Vegeta in his dark kitchen corner, tears streaming down his scarred face as he slammed out the door. Chuckling to himself, Vegeta finished the last of his sandwiches and made his way into the living room to see if he could salvage any of his evening's entertainment by baiting that silly Chikyuu woman. 

Standing in the doorway of the darkened living room, Vegeta could see the woman in the shadows by the large bay window on the far wall in a red dress, staring outside silently with her arms wrapped tightly around her own waist. "What's the matter woman?" he laughed. "Did the idiot finally get tired of your hideous face and dump you?" Expecting her to launch into a tirade of her own, Vegeta was surprised when she remained silent. 

"Woman." He said again, slowly walking towards her. "Did you hear me? I asked if that idiot mate of yours finally got tired of your ugliness." 

Sighing, Bulma turned towards Vegeta slightly. "He's not my mate." She whispered tiredly, not even having the energy to fight. Vegeta frowned as his keen ears picked up the slight tremor in her voice and he came even closer. _Oh god, hold it together Bulma! There's no way you're crying in front of this jerk!_ If he came any closer he would be able to tell that she was on the verge of tears and the thought of Vegeta seeing her cry was enough to make her want to die of shame on the spot. 

"Lucky him, then." Vegeta said, grinning wickedly as he tried one last time to get the woman to rise to his bait. Bulma could only press her hand to her mouth to try and stifle the sobs as the Saiyans harsh words pushed her over the line. Feeling the tears begin to spill down her cheeks Bulma abruptly spun around, hoping to make a hasty retreat before Vegeta saw her crying. He was a lot closer than she had thought though, and when she turned she ran straight into his muscled chest. Without even thinking, Vegeta put a hand out to steady her and grasped her upper arm tightly while she caught her balance. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as the sun's dying rays highlighted the teardrops on her cheeks and he held tighter as she tried to pull away from him. 

"I have never seen you cry before, woman." he said gruffly, and Bulma felt her face turn pink. 

"I'm not crying," she snapped, and tried unsuccessfully to pull away again. When he raised a hand toward her face she absently noticed that this was the first time she had ever seen him without his gloves on. Vegeta touched her cheek with one fingertip and came away with a single tear trembling on the end of his finger. He raised it to his lips and the tip of his tongue licked it off. "You taste like your heart has broken, silly woman." He said, his voice still gruff but lacking the cruelty it usually contained. 

Bulma could feel her throat choke tight. She couldn't breath past the tears and the harder she tried not to cry the faster the tears flowed. In a moment of sheer insanity she buried her face against Vegeta's chest and was mildly surprised to feel his arms wrap around her back rather than push her away. It was like something had broken deep inside her and she was crying bits of herself out onto his body. 

Dimly a voice came to her, as if it had been speaking for a while, and the sensation of someone lightly stroking her back. "Dohiyi, usdi saquui. Ehisdi nasgini gesvna adohi. Dohiyi, oginalii. Tla tsugasa wodv. Nasgi howa. Nasgi howa*…" Vegeta's voice was mumbling in a rough but musical language, which some far corner of Bulma's brain realized must be his native language. Thoroughly exhausted by her crying jag Bulma sagged in the prince's arms and tried to step away, wanting only to crawl into her bed and go to sleep. Snorting in disgust and muttering something about 'weaklings' Vegeta bent down and lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to her room and laying her in her own bed. The last thing she remembered before practically passing out was Vegeta's face looming over hers, his characteristic scowl back in place and glaring darkly at her. 

"If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, woman, you'll regret it." He grunted, and was gone a moment later. Bulma felt her lips curl up into a smile as her tired eyes fluttered closed. "Don't worry Vegeta…I won't tell anyone that there might be something besides ice buried in there." she whispered into the darkness of her bedroom, and then drifted off to sleep. 

_* = I took my idea of what the Saiyan language must sound like from Cherokee/Tsalagi, but it's a very rough approximation. Basically though, Vegeta is just saying "Peace, little one. Painful but not forever. Peace, friend. No tears. It's allright. It's allright." I know, a bit mushy for our resident royalty but hey, he figues no one understands him anyways, so maybe he's loosed up a bit. _

Anyways, hope you all are enjoying it so far. Let me know what you think, and hey, do you guys think this should have some lemon-scent to it? I'll be writing some of those chapters soon, so gimme some feedback here. G rated or R? Hehe...until next time!! ~Threnody~ 


	6. Morning Afters

_Author's Note: Well well, y'all, its been a long while. I am sorry that this little chapter is so short, its just a tiny tidbit of the rest of the story floating around in my head. Rest assured that I am back on the task and this story should be getting good and juicy soon! Thanks for the patience! ~Threnody~_

**Chapter 6**

Bright, unforgiving light filtered through Bulma's eyelids early the next morning, and she was hard pressed to decide which it was that had woken her up; the light or the sounds of Vegeta's harsh voice. 

"Woman!" he barked again and Bulma groaned, rolling over and jamming the pillow down over the top of her head. "Go away, Vegeta!" she yelled, the sound muffled by layers of feathers. 

"Damn lazy woman! Get your sorry ass out of bed and find me some decent food, seeing as how you forgot to put any in my new machine. Fine lot of good this whole separate living quarter thing does when idiots like you forget to give me the provisions I need!" 

Groaning again, Bulma sat up just enough to half-heartedly launch the pillow in the general vicinity of the Saiya-jin who was standing impatiently in the doorway with crossed arms and a dark scowl on his face. Easily dodging the feathery missile, the Prince waited while she woke up enough to begin to crawl out of bed before turning to go back downstairs. 

"Its about time you got up. Staying in bed and crying over that idiotic mate of yours won't solve a damn things, woman." He shot back over his shoulder, and smiled smugly when he saw Bulma fly out of bed, face red with shame and fists clenched in fury as she stormed over to him on the landing to the stairs. 

"He is _not_ my mate!" she hissed furiously as she passed him then slowed to walk regally down the stairs, pride stiffening her spine as she felt her face flame more. She could hear Vegeta trailing behind her, laughing the whole way down. _I can not believe this jerk!_ she screamed mentally, embarrassed beyond all belief that she had allowed herself to open up in front of the concieted Saiya-jin. She should have known that he would only fling her weakness back in her face at any opportune time. 

Stomping into the kitchen, Bulma began throwing cupboards doors open in her fury, determined to make the most unpalatable meal that the Saiya-jin would still eat. A few dozen runny eggs, burnt pancakes, and venemous exchanges with Vegeta made Bulma feel a lot better until she was almost able to forget the whole breakup had even happened. That was, until Vegeta left to go train and Bulma was once again left alone with her head. It was only then that she realized how Vegeta's ever-present string of insults and baits had kept her from thinking about Yamcha for a little while at least. 

_ Sorry so short, again. Expect more really really soon! ~Threnody~_


	7. All Steamed Up

_Hey again, all! I told you I would be putting up chapters regularly again, so here for your reading pleasure is the next installment of Love is a Four Letter Word. And could it be...are things steaming up a bit??? ~Threnody~_

**Chapter 7**

Days passed slowly, slipping into weeks until one day Bulma woke three months after the fateful night in which she lost Yamucha. _Yamucha…_ Bulma thought sadly to herself, rolling over on her bed, sheets impossibly tangled from yet another restless night to inspect the framed picture on her bed stand. A picture from a different time than now, a happier time; where Bulma and Yamucha posed giggling with arms wrapped tightly around each other. A time when all Bulma knew was their love, and that it would last forever, because that is the naiveté of youth. 

Shaking her head slowly Bulma spared a brief moment to wonder just when and how she had let herself get so jaded, so cynical. Squaring her jaw resolutely she untangled herself from the bed and marched into the bathroom, turning the taps in the shower on to let the water warm up while she stared at her reflection in the slowly fogging mirror. A tired face looked back at her, dark smudges under the eyes from one too many sleepless nights and a haggard, wary look in the eyes. Hollow, wounded eyes that held betrayal deep in their azure depths._ Well, Bulma, what did you expect? _She asked herself bitterly. Love was nothing more than another way to bleed. Weeks ago she had decided to never allow herself to be hurt that way again, had begun building a solid fortress around her bruised heart to prevent any further damage. But it didn't help to heal the existing wounds, and Bulma was beginning to feel as if she would never be completely whole again. Sighing and allowing herself a brittle smile, Bulma stepped into the now hot shower to try and soak some of her burdens away. Her relaxation was to be cut short, however, when minutes later she was roused from her warm stupor by an incessant pounding on her bedroom door. 

"Woman!!!" An angry voice snarled through the wood. "Is it a Chikyuu trait to be this lazy or just some abnormality you have!? It is hours since the sun has risen, and I have been waiting for some food. If you want to still be alive in two years I suggest you get your fat ass out here and make my breakfast so that I can train!" 

"Oh, go boil your head, Vegeta!" Bulma screamed half-heartedly through the bathroom door. 

Furiously Vegeta stormed through Bulma's room to the open bathroom door and slapped it violently, opening his mouth to hurl a retort in the woman's face. "Damn it, woman!" he began blackly as he strode through the open doorway, stopping abruptly as his eyes adjusted to the thick rolls of steam boiling around the hot room and Vegeta realized exactly what Bulma was doing in the bathroom. 

"No, you listen to me, Vegeta!" Bulma yelled angrily, life creeping back into her hollow voice as she slid the door to her shower open and groped blindly for the towel hanging on the nearby wall, too caught up in her tirade to get a good look around. "If you would just hold onto your panties for two minutes while I…" Bulma's voice trailed off into a squeak as she suddenly realized that she was not the only one in the bathroom. Somewhere a voice in her mind was babbling inanely at her to grab that towel and cover herself up, but she could only stare at Vegeta, her eyes growing wider and wider as she felt herself frozen in place by those dark eyes, one hand still fisted into the fabric of the towel. Vegeta's eyes continued to bore into her own, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as his large dark pupils dilated more and more until Bulma felt as if she was going to fall into those deep black pools and slip below the surface quietly, drowning happily. 

Abruptly Vegeta blinked and Bulma was released from whatever odd compulsion had left her there staring like an idiot. Letting out a loud squeal, Bulma quickly finished the act of wrapping herself in the towel and rounded on the Saiyan no Ouija, her flaming face and embarrassment goading her into opening her mouth to loose the stream of obscenities boiling in her throat. But before she got a chance to begin Vegeta held up one hand. "Hurry, woman," was all he growled before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room altogether. Frowning in confusion, Bulma shook her head at the crazy Saiyan no Ouija and began to get dressed. 

Once he had exited Bulma's rooms, Vegeta wandered blindly over to his own bedroom across the hall and hurriedly shut the door after entering. Leaning against the solid wood Vegeta frowned, his arms unconsciously folding themselves across his chest in his usual pose. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths in an effort to erase the memory of the last few minutes from his mind. The woman was beautiful, he would give her that. Of course that was not new knowledge to him but for some reason seeing her nude in the midst of all that rolling steam, water beading on her smooth skin and striking blue hair, she had looked like some sort of sea siren from the ancient Saiyan legends sent to lure him into peril. And that was exactly what she was, dangerous. The woman was an annoying distraction at best, and if Vegeta had been anything other than Saiyan he would have just bedded her and gotten this out of his system. Even now, the scent of whatever soaps she had used lingered in his nostrils, something spicy and suited exactly to her. But no amount of soap had been able to cover up the other smells his keen nose had picked up…the ones that still tortured him now. Her initial fear and nervousness rolling over him like a heady wine to be followed by embarrassment; embarrassment tinged with a hint of desire even he wasn't sure she was aware of feeling that slamming into his lower gut like a well-timed fist. 

Shaking his head abruptly to disperse the thoughts racing through it, Vegeta growled loudly and angrily at himself. Beautiful women who desired him were nothing new to the Prince, why should this one be any different? _She isn't._ he told himself. Women were things to be used and tossed aside when done with, just like anything else. Securing that thought in the forefront of his mind, Vegeta pushed away from the wall to wait downstairs in the kitchen for the woman to make him some breakfast. 

_Allright y'all, thats it for this time. Tune in soon for the next episode, and please don't forget to R/R!! Thanks! ~Threnody~_


	8. Revalations

_ Okay, okay, I know everyone is upset! I've been meaning to update this for so long and I've just been so busy, not to mention having a wicked case of writers block. So, hopefully things are getting back on track. I'm sorry this isn't longer, but I've got some pretty long chapters planned for the next few updates, so keep your fingers crossed and we'll see how this goes! Until then though, please r/r, and feedback is wonderful. Thanks! ~Threnody~_

**Chapter 8**

Bulma pushed a tendril of hair that had been clinging to her sweaty forehead out of her face and sat back on her knees, examining her handiwork with a critical eye. Finally, she placed the wrench in her hand back into the toolbox at her side and grunted in satisfaction. The final touches had been finished on the new gravity room after Vegeta's latest Ki-related disaster and she had spent the last three days tweaking with the final results. Not that she really complained too much about fixing the gravity room; as much as she liked to gripe about it Vegeta had really only broken it a few times since he moved in with them and every time he did it gave her a good reason to take a few days away from the mundane schedule of Capsule Corp. She never really was one for the boardroom…oh sure, she liked her share of attention and control as much as any girl, but she really preferred to be in the lab 'getting her hands dirty' as her father liked to put it. Humming softly, Bulma began picking up the rest of her tools. 

_I wonder where Vegeta is?_ she wondered to herself. Not that they ever saw each other often, the only times she really saw him were the rare occasions when the gravity room needed to be fixed. Other than that, they both pretty much went about their own separate lives. He slept, ate whatever was put in front of him or he could make, and trained. That…was just about it. Bulma wondered how anyone could survive on such a stable diet of monotony. Grimacing at the thought of just how bored she would get living such a life, Bulma picked up her toolbox and wiped her dirty hands on the oversized coveralls she wore before turning around to exit the small gravity pod. Walking over to the control panel she pushed a few buttons and bright sunlight spilled in through the opening doorway. Smiling as the sounds of birdsong floated towards her ears, Bulma began walking towards Capsule Corp. headquarters and made it about two steps before running face-first into a brick wall. 

"Ouch!" Bulma cried, rubbing her painfully throbbing nose and looking around her in dismay at the various tools scattered across the lawn. Bulma worked up her best glare and raised her head to stare down the offending wall when she suddenly realized the 'wall' was chuckling. 

"Klutz." The amused voice of Vegeta drifted down towards her as she reclined on the grass. Squinting up at the bright sunlight, Bulma shaded her eyes with one slightly grubby hand and stared at her resident Saiyan who stood grinning wickedly, obviously enjoying her discomfiture. 

"Hi Vegeta," she sighed, as she began the tedious process of picking her tools up and putting them back in the toolbox…again…"You could help, you know. After all, it is your fault I fell in the first place." Completely ignoring her request, Vegeta breezed by her towards his now finished training room, throwing a quick "Well, you should have watched where you were going!" over his shoulder at her before the door slid closed behind him. "Ass." She muttered to herself as she finally finished her task and tried one more time to make it back to Capsule Corp. "Like it would have killed him to say Thank You, or at least some kind of acknowledgement of the work I just did for him." Shaking her heads, Bulma realized the absurdity of that concept. Asking Vegeta to say thank you would be…well, it would be like asking the sun to suddenly start going around the earth. It just didn't happen. Fact of nature. And the sooner she stopped expecting him to act like everyone else the easier her life would get. Looking back at the gravity room she saw the occasional flash of light from a ki blast and felt that familiar twinge of jealousy she always felt whenever somebody fired off a ki blast or flew around her. Oh well…she had been blessed with brains and beauty. No one can honestly expect to have it all in one lifetime, right? Still, there was something else bothering her that she couldn't quite seem to put her finger on. 

After taking a quick shower and putting on some old comfy jeans, a vintage t-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops Bulma threw herself down on the couch, absently chewing on a handful of Doritos as she mentally addressed the vague feelings that still haunted her. Jealousy? Bulma frowned and shook her head slightly. No, that wasn't right. More like, disappointment. But what was she disappointed about? After another 10 minutes of thought yielded no results, Bulma resigned herself to solving this dilemma later and hoisted herself out of the overstuffed couch to use the telephone. She had decided while taking a shower that Vegeta was probably tired of eating meals he made himself in his tiny gravity-room kitchen and she would order pizza for everyone. Of course…_wait a minute Bulma!_ she practically shrieked out loud at herself. If she ordered pizza then Vegeta would have to come up to the house to eat them and that would be defeating the entire purpose of building his living-quarters inside the training room! The receiver almost fell from Bulma's nerveless fingers as the full implications of that thought sunk in and a tiny bold of lightning struck her brain. An epiphany. She had just figured out what it was that had been bothering her since she had since Vegeta earlier that day. She _actually_ kind of missed having the asshole around! What was the world coming to? 

Well, then again, what was so wrong with that? After all, she did kind of consider the Saiyan a friend, even if he was an arrogant annoying pompous ass. Suddenly, Bulma came to the startlingly clear realization that she was lonely. Not just I'm-bored-and-wish-I-had-someone-to-do-something-with lonely, but achingly alone. Since her breakup with Yamcha she hadn't seen anyone but ChiChi, and even then only occasionally. She missed everybody, not just Vegeta, but Krillin and Goku and ChiChi and…yes, even Yamcha. Perhaps it was time she tried to call Yamcha. Maybe this was what her mother meant by she would know when it was time to become friends with Yamcha again. After all the time they had spent together she still considered him her best friend, and his being gone had left a hole in her life she had been hard-pressed to fill. But would he still want to be friends with her? 

Steeling herself for the unknown, Bulma picked up the phone again and began dialing the numbers to Yamcha's house, hoping and praying for the best… 

_ Allright, thats it for now...hopefully a new one will be up in a couple day. Thanks for reviewing! ~Threnody~_


	9. Leave the Light On

_Alright, finally here is a new chapter to this poor neglected story! I tried to make it a bit longer than my others for you!_

  


_Disclaimer:_ I obviously don't own Vegeta. Or DBZ......Duh...

  
  
  


Chapter 9

  
  


Bulma laughed again, coming dangerously close to spraying a mouthful of her drink all over Yamcha's grinning face as he wrapped up the punch line of a new joke. Still giggling and trying to look dignified while wiping her face with a napkin she settled back into the seat of their booth, feeling the club's loud bass rumble through the seat and tickle her ears.

  


"Thanks for inviting me out tonight, Yamcha." she finally said, fiddling with the straws of her drink a little nervously before flashing a smile in his direction.

  


"Hey, no problem babe! Truth be told, I was just about to call you myself before you beat me to it, but I wasn't really sure how well that would go over." he laughed with a wry grin. "I mean, after all, it was sort of my fault that we hadn't spoken to each other in so long, right?"

  


Bulma waved her hand at that, dismissing his train of thought. "Ah, let's not worry about that. Besides, by now we probably both agree that you just had the guts to do what one of us should have done for a long time, right?" She smiled and reached across the table, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I really have missed you though, you know? I don't know what's been wrong with me lately, I've just been so...dull. Everything seems so monotonous, all my days seem the same. Boring boring boring..." She wrinkled her nose.

  


"Boring!?" Yamcha exclaimed. "I'd hardly call your life boring Bulma! I mean, have you happened to forget the fact that you share your house with a mass murderer?? Nothing like the element of sudden and painful death lurking around 24/7 to make life a little spicier right??" he snorted derisively.

  


"Oh come on, Yamcha, he's not that bad. Besides, I built him a fully self-contained GR so I really don't see Vegeta that often anyways." Bulma rolled her eyes.

  


"Who said I was talking about Vegeta?" he asked playfully. "Maybe I was referring to your father, eh?"

  


Bulma reached across the table and punched Yamcha in the bicep "You idiot." she laughed. 

  


"Ow, hey!" Yamcha yelped, rubbing his arm and pouting. "Jeez Bulma, are you sure that you never snuck off with Chi-Chi and learned a few tricks from her? That hurt!"

  


Rolling her eyes, Bulma picked up her small beaded purse and leather coat while slurping the last few sips of her white russian. "Ok, pansy-boy, it's time to get out of here. I don't think either of us need any more drinks, not if we're going to drive home." She started to stand up and felt the room around her begin to slowly rotate on its axis like a wobbly globe. "Ugh..." she moaned and sat back down, too unsteady on her high-heeled feet to chance remaining upright. "Too late for that...crap." 

  


"What's wrong?" Yamcha asked worriedly, instantly standing next to her seat and peering down at her green-tinged face. "You ok, Bulma?" 

  


Grinning wryly, she shook her head as she accepted his outstretched hand and was pulled up from the bench. "Just thinking maybe I shouldn't have had that last one. I mean, I'm not exactly plowed or anything but I'm a little worried about driving my car home."

  


Yamcha helped her steady herself on her feet and then reached behind her to pick up her purse and coat, helping Bulma to put it on and placing the purse in her hands. "No prob, I'll just drive for us. I haven't had nearly as much to drink as you have, eh?" he chuckled.

  


Bulma looked at him, horror in her blue eyes. "Are you out of your mind?" she almost screeched. "Let you anywhere near my apple-red baby? She's the newest, top of the line car! I made special modifications to her myself! The insurance premiums alone on that girl are astronomical! No." she shook her head emphatically, blue strands wisping across her bare shoulders. "Nobody drives Baby but me."

  


"Okay, okay!" Yamcha held up his hands in surrender. "Honestly, it's not like I'm that bad of a driver though Bulma..." his voice trailed off at the murderous look in her eyes. "Ok. Scratch that then. I'll just have to fly you home and you can come pick 'Baby' up tomorrow, alright?" 

  


"Alright." Bulma finally sighed and they made their way to the exit, weaving in and out of the dancing couples and crowds.

  


Outside, Bulma shivered a tiny bit and pulled her coat closer around herself as the cool breeze touched her bare skin. It was late, almost 1:30 in the morning and the world outside the club was wrapped in inky darkness. Breathing in the crisp air Bulma stared up at the starry sky as the throbbing beat of the clubs music beat a tattoo on her back through the open doorway. Smiling a wicked grin, Bulma dug into her purse for her ultimate piece of contraband; a half-pack of light cigarettes and an expensive silver Zippo she had nicked from her dad. Fishing a smoke out of the little box she cupped her hands against the slight breeze and expertly flicked the lighter, touching the tiny yellow-blue flame to the tip of her cigarette and inhaling deeply. She blew the smoke out slowly, enjoying the way it hung around her like fog in the suddenly still night air, turning the world hazy and dreamlike. Yamcha emerged a moment later after paying their tab to see Bulma lost in thought, gazing at the flickering stars overhead and half of her cigarette already gone.

  


"Bulma Briefs!" He exclaimed reproachfully, and she held a hand up to stop the tirade. "Can it, Yamcha." she said, grinning, already knowing what he was going to lecture her about. "It's only a treat. I don't do this very often. In fact, " she said, making a face, "I think these are already tasting kind of stale." She flicked the cherry off the tip of her cigarette and ground it beneath the toe of her high heels before dropping the butt into the sand-filled ashtray outside the club doorway.

  


"Ready to go?" Yamcha asked, and she nodded. Yamcha stepped closer and picked her up in his arms before powering up and slowly rising from the ground. He smiled reassuringly at her as he saw her gulp and close her eyes tightly, knowing how much she hated heights and how uncomfortable this trip was going to be for her. Slowly flying higher Yamcha rose above the rooftops of the city, orientating himself in the direction of Capsule Corp before taking off at an unhurried pace.

  


"Bulma." he said softly a few moments later. "Open your eyes." he squeezed her reassuringly to show her that he wouldn't drop her, she needn't be afraid of the height. "I want you to see this."

  


Hesitantly Bulma peeled one eyelid open to take a quick peek around and instantly both her eyes shot open, her mouth shaping itself into an 'O' of surprise. At first the familiar twinges of fear plucked at her heart until she felt Yamcha's arms still holding her tightly and she knew that she was safer that she would be on the ground. Besides, how could one feel fear with a view like this! Spread below her was the lights of the city, millions of twinkling multi-colored lights winking and flashing in a mirror image of the star-filled sky above them. They were so high! She felt as if she could reach above or below herself and come away with handfuls of stardust. It was like being inside one of those planetarium globes, the black globes with the tiny pinpricks and the light shining out to resemble stars. Bulma looked around herself in awe and thought that this just might be what it was like to be an astronaut in space, with nothing but the stars for company. Once again she felt the usual spurt of jealousy for those who had the ki to do these things.

  


"How is it that you're not up every night doing this?" she exclaimed. "If I could fly no one would ever get me down from here!"

  


Yamcha just chuckled at that, the sound vibrating through Bulma's cheek where it was pressed against his shoulder. Bulma continued to stare around herself in wonder until, much too soon for her liking, they began to approach the lit dome of Capsule Corp. Even her home looked fascinating from up here! She could pick out the individual buildings, the soft glow shining through some of the bare windows. She could see a tiny glow coming from the GR, where Vegeta was undoubtedly passed out in exhaustion from his daily self-inflicted torture, and a tiny light from her own bedroom window where her mom had thoughtfully left a lamp on so that Bulma didn't have to stumble in the dark when she returned home.

  


Yamcha finally approached the front doors of Bulma's home and began to descend, landing gently on the front step of Bulma's porch and setting her carefully onto her feet where she swayed a little unsteadily. Reaching out Yamcha placed a hand on each shoulder to stabilize the swaying woman. "Whoa there Bulma," he laughed.

  


"Sorry" she mumbled, ducking her head slightly in embarrassment. Looking up a few seconds later she saw Yamcha standing a few inches from her, his hands still on her shoulders and an unreadable look in his eyes. Bulma felt frozen, helpless as she heard Yamcha whisper her name and saw his eyes glance down at her trembling lips. Every nerve in her body was screaming a warning, time seemed to move in slow motion and she saw Yamcha tilt his head slightly, bringing his face closer as his eyes fluttered shut. BAD! BAD! Her mind was screaming at her wooden limbs and nothing seemed to be able to respond in time to avert this disaster as she watched the inexorable approach of Yamcha's lips towards hers.

  


Suddenly, miraculously, divinely!...somebody cleared their throat from behind her, and Bulma was startled into action, regaining enough presence of mind to dodge the kiss and throw her arms around Yamcha's neck in a tight hug. Mumbling a quick thanks for the fun night Bulma turned tail and fled into the shadowed foyer, fully expecting to find her father standing there as her unexpected savior. She quickly closed the front door and watched out the glass panes as a bemused Yamcha raised his fist to knock on the door, them paused and lowered his hand before backing away and taking off into the night sky.

  


"Whew..." Bulma sighed, pressing her back to the cool wood of the door and wiping an imaginary drop of sweat off her brow. "Thanks Dad, I owe you big time for that one!" She grinned into the dim light of the entryway.

  


"And exactly how big a debt are we talking?" A low voice purred out of the shadows, a voice that most definitely did _not_ belong to her father. Bulma mentally groaned and wished that it really was physically possible for the ground to open up and swallow people whole. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment and she was thankful for the dim light of the foyer. Of course, she would still never hear the end of this one.

  


"What are you doing in the house, Vegeta?" she sighed and stepped past the Saiyan no Ouiji. "And quit...I dunno..._lurking_. You're giving me the creeps." Stepping into the living room she tossed her coat off and threw it over the back of the couch, following it with her purse before dumping herself unceremoniously on the cushions.

  


Moments later Vegeta sauntered out of the foyer and into the living room as well, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pajama pants. Curling his lip slightly at the state of disarray she had caused he sat at the other end of the couch and reached for the TV remote. "I happened to have been watching this mind-numbing contraption, before you and that nancy-boy interrupted me. Or should I say I interrupted you?" he shot her a knowing glance and a sly smirk.

  


"Oh, ugh! Bite your tongue!" she shrieked. "Yamcha was well on his way to making a big mistake."

  


"I don't know..." Vegeta arched one eyebrow. "I didn't exactly see you running away screaming or anything. In fact, you looked pretty eager and willing to me."

  


Growling, Bulma realized that Vegeta was simply trying to bait her again, but not in his normal crass or cruel way. In fact, if anything she would almost say there was an element of teasing in his insults tonight. "Well, if that's true and I wanted to be kissed so badly, why did you interrupt us then, Vegeta? Jealous?" she teased back, knowing nothing could be further from the truth.

  


"Don't be an idiot, woman." He snorted, and turned back to face the television. Blue light played over the angles on his face and Bulma watched as his usual arrogant expression settled itself back into place. She sighed a little sadly, knowing that Vegeta had his mask securely back in place and it would be a long while before that other side of him was allowed to briefly emerge again. She was really starting to enjoy that other Vegeta, the one she caught a flash of every so often before it was stuffed back under the hard outer shell. At least, she thought she saw it. Maybe she was just going crazy. It was better odds than those of there being a softer side to Vegeta. 

  


"So why'd you do it then?" Bulma finally ventured, after a few minutes of silence had passed between them while they both watched the infomercial on TV.

  


Vegeta slowly turned to look at her and blinked, a blank expression on his face. "Do what?"

  


"Honestly Vegeta, you're denser than the Hoover dam. Why'd you interrupt us?" She exclaimed, irritated He simply grunted once and turned back to the TV. Bulma slowly counted to ten, having learned long ago that the Saiyan would answer a question when and if he wanted to and pushing him anymore was likely to simply cause him to clam up for good. Finally Vegeta shrugged and leaned back into the deep cushions, crossing his arms over his chest. 

  


"You didn't want it to happen." he grunted out, his eyes still glued to the television set.

  


"Yeah, but how did you know that?" she asked, puzzled. It wasn't as if she had given off many negative signals or anything, so how could Vegeta have known what she really wanted? Were Saiyans telepathic? She giggled a little at that thought, imagining Vegeta being endlessly subjected to mental conversations with Goku.

  


"I smelled it." he stated flatly, then turned to catch her confused look. "You what?" she asked blankly.

  


Vegeta sighed and raked one hand through his black flaming hair, giving her a look that plainly told her she was one of the biggest idiots produced by this galaxy. "I smelled it. It's rather simple you see, there's a sense called the olfactory sense and how it works is-"

  


"Ok, I'm not an idiot Vegeta, I know how a sense of smell works." she interrupted and rolled her eyes in irritation. "What I am asking is how can you smell an emotion? That makes no sense."

  


"You don't have to smell an emotion, baka. After all, isn't it your scientists who claim that all emotions are simply chemical reactions within the body? Therefore I assume that I am smelling the chemicals that make up an emotion and know what you feel." He stated, looking at her as if she was an idiot and this was the simplest, everyday concept.

  


"You can smell the chemicals inside a body?" Bulma repeated, fascinated. She sat up a little straighter, eager to have this phenomenon explained for the scientist in her. "Your sense of smell is that highly developed?"

  


"Of course it is!" the Saiyan bristled. "Unlike you poor Chikyuu-jin, Saiyans do not live their entire lives as if wrapped in thick layers of cotton. Everything is intensified, every sense highly developed. I almost feel sorry for you people. But we need it...after all, never forget that a Saiyan is first and foremost a carnivore." he smiled evilly, exposing highly overdeveloped canines that could almost qualify as fangs and causing Bulma to shiver slightly. "For instance..." he continued, "I can tell that frightened you. Not a lot but a little. I can tell that you spent the evening in a place filled with many other sweating, lustful people. I can tell that you had at least two alcoholic drinks containing cream, a few chicken strips with honey-mustard dipping sauce, and a maraschino cherry. You used the same shampoo as normal but a different conditioner and soap. You used a vanilla lotion and are wearing at least two different brand of cosmetics than you normally wear. You are wearing that Kami-awful perfume. And you reek of that nancy-boy. You're practically bathed in his stench." he finally finished while wrinkling his nose slightly and frowning.

  


"Whoa..." Bulma trailed off, her mind boggled at Vegeta's detailed account of her evening. Everything was true, right down to the part about wearing different makeup tonight. Her brow wrinkled into a frown as she thought back over what he had said. "Do you know that much about everybody's daily smell?" she asked curiously.

  


Vegeta just gave a noncommital shrug. "Everybody has a smell, that's how you can use dogs to track someone. But it's not that detailed, no."

  


"So..." Bulma began, confusion clouding her eyes, "How do you know so much about how I am supposed to smell or not to smell?"

  


"Who cares, woman?" he growled, his face growing stormier by the second, and Bulma knew that the evenings conversation was pretty much over. He stood up abruptly and dropped the remote control onto the couch in the spot he vacated. "Besides, how could I not know. I can't seem to get rid of you, you're always around sticking your damn ugly nose into my business." he snapped. With that said, Vegeta strode purposefully out of the living room towards the front door and his GR. As he walked away, Bulma knew that his anger was a cover for something, but what? The though puzzled her until she finally worked up enough energy to drag her tired body up the stairs to her own room and crash into the blissful, Vegeta-free oblivion of sleep.

  


_Thanks all! I've already got a few more chapters of this story done so hopefully I should have some regular updates! Please review and lemme know...Good? Bad? Ugly?_

_~Threnody~_

  
  



	10. Islands

  


_ Hello again! Thanks to mystic, badgerwolf, Vegetarocks87, vegito044, Dawn Moon, and The Crazy Cricket for reviewing that last chapter, it is great to see that there is still someone interested in reading this hunk of junk. *kicks this rusty story* Anyways, here's another chapter, a little shorter but oh well. And I hope Veggie's not too OOC, its so hard to write a B/V and keep him in character. I'll just have to crack the whip a little harder at him to keep him in line. *grins*_

  


_P.S. This chapter is a little grittier than the others, there's a bit of sexual situation and definitely some bad language... WARNING – The "F" word is in this chapter, so don't read if you'll get offended!_

  


Chapter 10

  
  


_'No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...' John Donne (1572-1631)_

  
  


Bulma peeled open eyelids that felt as if they could double as sandpaper to blink owlishly at her night stand. 5:30 was staring back at her accusingly in bright red numbers. Five bloody thirty in the morning. _Why_ in Kami's name was her alarm going off at _5:30_ on a Sunday morning?! Bulma groaned at the beeping, absolutely sure that it was designed specifically to qualify as the most annoying sound in the word. Too lazy to actually turn the alarm off, Bulma wildly flung an arm out from underneath the edge of her blankets to smack the big snooze button on the top of the damned machine. _Note to self, Ms. Mechanical Genius...build a better alarm clock! _Bulma rolled back over and buried her head under the soft down pillow, figuring she could buy at least a few more minutes of sleep time. 

  


Five minutes later, even the incessant beeping of the clock barely roused her. _Damn thing!_ She mentally yelled, wishing for the 80 millionth time that she could shoot ki blasts and other cool things, so she could blast that annoying hunk of plastic to kingdom come. Thirty seconds later Bulma came the closest she had ever some in her adult life to wetting the bed as her wish was suddenly and miraculously granted. A bit of smoking plastic landed on top of the blanket in her lap as she sat upright in bed, screaming aloud and utterly convinced that the world was coming to an end.

  


"Well hell... that's not much of an improvement." growled Vegeta, standing in the open doorway of her room, his ki still raised from the small blast he has loosed at the clock. "Shut up, woman!"

  


"Kami-damn it, Vegeta! You just scared the absolute piss out of me!" Bulma shrieked and flopped back onto the mattress to stare up at the ceiling, one hand pressed over her pounding heart. 

  


Vegeta just shrugged and grunted. "Well, what did you expect? I could hear that noise from all the way outside and it was a bit painful when you have hearing like I do. What do the makers of this device do, try and make those things as annoying as they possibly can?" Vegeta absently toed a small piece of clock that had landed just near the tip of his training boot. "Of course, I don't think any of this was worth having to hear your screeching this early." He winced slightly and wiggled the tip of a finger in his ear. 

  


Bulma just gave a small 'hmph' and pulled the blankets up around her chin a little higher, painfully aware of the fact that she was wearing next to nothing for pajamas. She couldn't say why it was that this Saiyan made her so uncomfortable, but she found herself desperately wishing that he would just _leave_...quickly. "So, you think you could leave now? Or are you planning on blowing up any other household appliances while you're at it?" she snapped a moment later, more than a little unnerved by the fact that he was still standing there.

  


Vegeta just gave her a trademark smirk and raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll leave when I'm ready to leave, not when you tell me to. But yes, I'm leaving. This room...." he trailed off and gave an assessing glance around before curling his lip in disgust." It's just too damn pink for any sane person to stand for very long." He turned on his heel and made for the doorway. "I suppose I should thank you, though," he threw over his shoulder with a wicked grin before disappearing. "I haven't had such an entertaining and thoroughly satisfying wake-up call in a long time."

  


"Hey!" Bulma yelled after noticing that the arrogant ass had just exited her room and left the door wide open. Now she would have to close it herself, which meant she would also have to get up and out of her nice warm bed. "Vegeta, come back here and close the door!!" After a few moments of hoping (hope being the operative word there) Bulma sighed, knowing that she would have to get up and do it herself. Muttering obscenities under her breath Bulma threw back the covers of her bed and climbed out. The cool floor made her shiver slightly as her feet touched the ground and the tiny scrap of lavender silk that was currently trying to pose as her nightgown did little to ward off the early morning chill. Still mumbling about the general superiority of humans over Saiyans Bulma padded silently on bare feet over to the open doorway and was reaching out for the doorknob when she still saw Vegeta standing in the hallway. 

  


"Honestly, do you _have_ to just lurk around outside people's bedrooms at a quarter to six in the morning, Vegeta?" Bulma fumed, poised and ready to slam the door in the Saiyan's face when done with her monologue. "Just for your information, if you have the bad manners to go barging into somebody else's room for any reason, let alone for the express purpose of blowing poor defenseless pieces of electronic equipment to bits of smoking shrapnel, the least you can do is _try_ and remember to close the door on your way out! I mean honestly Vegeta," she continued, just getting herself worked into the beginnings of a fine temper tantrum. "I would expect a high and mighty _prince_ like you to have at least some basic grasp of the concept of manners, but no... you don't. I feed you, I clothe you, I give you a place to live, and have I once ever heard you try to scrape out a 'Thank You'? No, that would be asking too much of his Princeliness, right? You want us to just grovel and kiss your feet? Pardon me, Your Highn-ass." Bulma finished, every word dripping with sarcasm as she executed an extremely low and mocking curtsy for the Saiyan no Ouiji. " I mean - WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" she broke off and roared as she rose from the curtsy to find that Vegeta was staring at her as if she had suddenly sprouted two extra pairs of green arms from her shoulders. Looking down at herself just to confirm that this wasn't true, Bulma squeaked in dismay when she realized that she was still wearing the barely-there violet nightie and that her chest was making it very obvious that she was freezing. Quickly crossing her arms over her chest to cover the traitorous nipples she glared at the Saiyan with blue eyes that could lower the room temperature by at least ten degrees. 

  


"What's the matter Vegeta, see something you like?" Bulma tipped her head haughtily after suffering through another moment of the Prince's cooly assessing stare, uncrossing her arms and posing. Faster than she had time to react the blue-haired woman found herself pinned against the hallway wall, Vegeta's hands planted on either side of her shoulders to cage her in. Cold black eyes bored into hers from only a few inches away and Bulma could feel the line of Vegeta's body pressed along hers. 

  


"There's nothing you could possibly offer that would interest me." Vegeta sneered, the growled words blowing warm across Bulma's cheek and causing her to shiver slightly from fear and some other emotion she didn't want to examine too closely.

  


"Is that so?" Bulma finally spat out, sky blue brows lowering dangerously over matching blue eyes.. Her anger, fear, and humiliation blinded her entire being to reason and she reacted purely out of spite. As her own lips twisted into a cruel smile Bulma leaned into Vegeta's body and rolled her hips forward ever so slightly, grinding her lower body into Vegeta's and laughing when he leaped back as if he had been burnt, hissing like a wet cat.

  


"Nothing to interest you here, eh Vegeta?" Bulma swayed closer to the Saiyan, grinning inwardly when she saw him take a step backwards. Vegeta raised one hand and for a brief moment Bulma was really afraid he would try and strike her but he dropped it a second later. 

  


"If you value your life, _Bulma_...don't ever do that again." Vegeta ground out through clenched teeth, his entire body tense enough to vibrate. Bulma could practically see the words 'Fight or Flight' running through his head. Bulma was somewhat relieved to see that he decided to go with the second route, and she was left to watch his rapidly retreating back as he fled down the stairs.

  


Sliding down the wall onto legs of rubber Bulma ran a hand through her sleep-tangled locks. Had she really just done that? Did she truly have a death wish?! Kami...for someone who was supposed to be such a genius she could be the biggest idiot sometimes! After spending five minutes desperately trying to convince her pounding heart that she was not about to be killed Bulma finally pulled herself to her feet and made her shaky way to the shower.

  


* * * * * * * * * *

  


There were exactly 1,258 rivets in the 10x10 patch of the GR roof that Vegeta had just spent the last few minutes staring at. Or at least pretty close to that, he reckoned. Give or take 20. Wincing, he pulled himself upright and sat on the floor for a few moments mentally assessing the extent of any damage he had taken from that last poorly-timed ki blast. If he hadn't made such a gross miscalculation of the speed of that last ki blast he wouldn't have spent the last few minutes flat on his back counting rivets while recovering. Of course, if that blue-haired harpy had even a scrap of the sense a sane person was blessed with he wouldn't have been preoccupied enough to end up sprawled out without a shred of dignity on the floor.

  


"Crazy idiotic woman." he growled for the 85th time that morning. He wondered if there was something in the water on this planet that caused all its inhabitants to have such a fragile grip on reality. Insanity seemed to be rampant on this mudball, and at least three times a week Vegeta was utterly convinced that he was the only being on this rock that hadn't gone stark raving mad. Maybe it's just genetic, he thought, picturing the Bulma's blond mother and her impervious smile.

  


But still, that gall of that woman! Imagine, the preposterous idea that she might be able to tempt him with any physical charms she could offer. If anything her behavior just reenforced his low opinion of Chikyuu and those who inhabited it. Really, it had been pathetic the way that woman had panted and rubbed herself up against him like some cheap whore. Pathetic that she had come running out into the hallway dressed in barely enough to be called clothing like some common tart. Did she have no self-respect at all? Incredibly pathetic, the way her petite kneecaps had peeked out from beneath the edge of her ridiculous purple nightgown. _Just as pathetic as you having to shove her away before she noticed just what kind of reaction her little 'display' was causing?_..a wicked voice whispered in the back of his head, the resulting lapse in concentration causing him to have to dodge a wildly misfired ki blast. 

  


Sighing, Vegeta felt his lower body tighten at the memory of this morning. It really had been too long since he had been with a woman. It was starting to be a distraction. The problem was that he had yet to meet anyone on this planet who affected him the way this blue-haired harpy did, but he would be damned before he went to her for release. That was just what he needed, one more way to feel somewhat indebted to her. An evil smirk spread across Vegeta's face as he realized that he may not necessarily be the one to come out of a situation like that in debt. After all, he knew that his years of training had produced nothing less that total perfection in his body and he knew how to please a woman properly. 

  


Of course, he realized that this morning had just been a game to her. There was no way that she would really be interested in taking him into her bed, she had made her opinion of him acutely obvious many time. And yet, it was too far beneath him to broach the subject himself. What if she denied him, turned him away? For some reason the thought of those sapphire eyes being turned on him with nothing but revulsion in their depths brought an unfamiliar twist to his gut. 

  


Ridiculous. Vegeta sighed as he raked one gloved hand through his unruly hair. He would continue on the way he had always done. He clutched his pride closer to his heart, it's tiny flame the only thing that had kept him going in this long cold life. He had never needed anyone but himself before, and he would be damned if he started now. He wasn't prepared to deal with some Chikyuu female who confused sex with love and would be frustrated when she finally realized that he could never, (would never!) be able to return her feelings. Bulma made enough annoying scenes as it was already. 

  


Satisfied that he had worried his way through that particular mental problem Vegeta doubled his training efforts with a vengeance, not stopping until his stomach began growling hours later and he set about preparing some of the food Bulma had left in the GR for him. Still, even after he crawled into bed to drift off into an exhausted sleep he could not seem to quiet his mind. The same little corner that held a grudging respect for Bulma had continued to whisper all day long that the real reason he was unwilling to approach her was that he knew, down in the last scraps of his wretched soul, that she deserved far better than what he could offer. An emotionless fuck and blood-stained hands. Vegeta felt like ripping the bed sheets in frustration when he realized that for the first time in his entire life, being a Prince was just not enough.

  
  


_ Alright, that's all for now folks. Please review, and don't be afraid to be constructive! I really want to know how to improve. And I'm still trying to find someone to beta this damn thing for me, so if you would be interested PLEASE PLEASE email me!!! Thanks! ~Threnody~_


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